


This Uncanny Valley

by onebillionstars



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dream Smp, Gen, Introspection, dnf if you squint really hard but romance is not the focus of this by a long shot, i need dream lore and he seems so adamant on not giving it to us, so it's time for ~conjecture~
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onebillionstars/pseuds/onebillionstars
Summary: The moment is clear: Dream, unarmed and vulnerable, surrounded by those he had once called friends, in a place meant to make him a god. What is less clear is how he fell from the young fighter with bright eyes to someone completely unattached, completely alone. That fall never happens unassisted.Or: This all started with the vision of a gentle future, soaked in sunlight and possibility. Instead, everything sours around him until Dream is the only one left standing on his side.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	This Uncanny Valley

**Author's Note:**

> I am absolutely hung up on the fact we know little to nothing about smp!Dream’s lore and, in light of all the shit that went down yesterday (this fated 20th day of January), I decided to have some fun with the concept. Obviously, none of this is canon (and even diverges from established storylines at points), but the one thing about not ever getting Dream’s perspective, or even George or Sapnap’s really, is that conjecture becomes so much more fun. Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> (this obviously contains spoilers for the dream smp lore streams as of tommy’s ‘the end of the saga’)

1\. affinity

The sun is cresting over distant ridges and, for once, Dream feels at peace.

It’s a rare feeling, this. So many years, so much traveling, so much violence—he’s never had the time to feel settled, but now the possibility seems to be softly presenting itself to him for the first time in a long time. Spruce needles sway in the early morning breeze as the sun begins to gently warm the chill in the air, blanketing the lakeshore with the scent of earth and dew. This place practically vibrates with potential, with the possibility of peace. He’s never felt this way about the thousands of forests he’s traversed, or the open expanses of the planes, or the vast reaches of the mountains. Perhaps, if he’s lucky, this place could bring him happiness. Just maybe.

His reverie is interrupted by the light tap of a shoe on his side, and he hardly has to crane his neck to see the person attached to it.

“You’re up early.” George says, settling in the cool sand next to him. His eyes still look tired from their endless journey, shoulders weighed down from the burden of fatigue. His deep brown gaze still manages to gleam, somehow, the glint of the sun captured in their abyss and reflected back to the world beyond. He deserves to be more at ease than this; they all do.

Dream hums, leaning back against his palms and tilting his gaze toward the lightening sky. The sunrise painted it in hues of bitter orange and translucent rosewood, the colors somehow clearer here. “I like it here, you know.” He finally offers, saying it simply.

His companion turns to him, eyebrows cocked. “It’s just another lake. We must’ve seen hundreds by now."

“I know, I know,” He responds sheepishly. “But, at the same time, I don’t know. The air feels… different, like there’s something alive here.”

He doesn’t have to glance to his right to feel the look of ridicule on George’s face, and he can envision it clearly in his mind, memorized after so many years. “Different? It’s air, Dream. It’s just alive as anywhere else.”

The only response he could summon at first was a gentle laugh, soft and low, which broke into the dawn before them. “Yeah, it is. Just air, I mean,” His gaze swivels to George’s, meeting his eyes with a gentle affection. “But haven’t you ever thought about it? Settling down? The three of us could be happy here, I think.”

“You don’t want to travel anymore?” Dream can already hear the next sentence forming on his chapped lips before he can even utter it. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I don’t mean that we’d stop traveling, at least not permanently,” He tries to explain his thinking, only just working through the thoughts as he’s saying them. “It just might be nice to rest for a little while, enjoy each other’s company again without worrying about whether we’ll barely scrape out life hopping from village to village. We could have an actual home, you know? In the sincerest sense of the word. A place where I don’t have to toss away writing because it has a proper place to rest, a soft bed to spend the night in, domesticity. It might be nice, don’t you think?”

George’s expression has turned from one of ridicule to genuine contemplation. “It could be nice, yeah.”

Dream can’t help but trace his eyes over his face, the corners of his mouth turned down like they always did when he was deep in thought. Shifting his weight, he slides a hand to rest atop one of George’s, who automatically turns it over until their palms meet and fingers lace. “I’m just thinking out loud. Believe me, the idea surprised me as much as it surprised you. I never thought I’d want to just…” He trails off, searching for the words. “Stand still.”

George always melts in his hands like soft wax, reservations dripping from his mind until they’ve run dry. “Sapnap will take some more convincing. I don’t think he’s ever willingly spent more than two nights in the same place. Always wanting to run, that one."

He laughs again, pure and genuine, and George can’t help but join in, the idea of giddy possibility contagious. They bask in the sunlight, taking in the golden rays until Dream can see specks of white when his eyes slide shut. He wishes he could stay suspended here, trapped in the candied amber of this moment, George’s hand in his and the future strange and bright, and as it passes, the memory clings to his mind like thick honey.

* * *

It’s been a week since their arrival on the rocky lakeshore, and Sapnap has finally decided that this was worth staying for. Convincing him had proven to be a challenge, his relentless desire to explore and to fight and to simply _move_ serving as a difficult stumbling block for Dream and George to overcome. Eventually, the three of them huddled around a campfire spitting embers into the night, he’d turned to Dream and asked: “How do you know staying’ll be worth it? Isn’t there so much more out there?”

Dream’s gaze had stayed trained on the fire, watching the flames dance in the rippling air above. “Well, I guess we don’t know if it’ll be worth it,” He confessed, the response knitting Sapnap’s eyebrows together in confusion. “But that’s part of it. We take a lot of risks all the time when we travel, and this is another one; it’s just a different kind. I’m okay with betting on this turning out well, just like I’ve always been okay betting we won’t get killed every time we go to the Nether. I’m just doing my best to be optimistic.” He turns to grin at Sapnap, the smile lazily turning up the left corner of his mouth. It’s blindingly genuine, and this is when his opinion finally changes.

“Okay, fine,” He capitulates, glancing to George before returning to the younger. “I guess I’ll do my best to be optimistic, too, but if things start to turn south, I’m gonna travel again. With or without you guys, alright?”

They agree, forming a pact of just the three of them: to do their best, and to remember each other. No matter what happened, if it all fizzled into nothing, or dozens of wayward travelers decided to settle with them over the years, they would return to their triad. Always the three of them, until the end of the line, just like it always had been.

They start construction on a house the next morning, scouting out flat ground to place piles and the rickety beginnings of walls. After meandering over mountaintops and through the dense spruce forest, George finally looked out from their temporary campsite by the lake and the idea strikes him: “What if we built out over the water? We could live in the center of the lake, and have paths to shore.”

It’s a rough idea, and none of them are quite sure how they would execute it, but Dream’s eyes immediately light up at the words, his mind shifting into that excited state where plans poured from his mouth. Before long, they had rough blueprints and, finally, a solid idea of what it meant to come home.

* * *

2\. human likeness

He’s not like himself these days. He can feel it shifting, a resentment he’s not used to building underneath his ribs until it sours each breath he takes. Dream doesn’t like the way that it makes him feel, and he’s doing his best to ignore it and not let it consume him in his weaker moments.

He tells George one night, lying underneath stars on the roof of what had grown to be called the Community House, although it was still theirs. Sapnap had moved out, but they remained. “I feel like I’m a shitty person.” He says, George’s head laying heavy and warm on his shoulder as they ward off the autumn chill.

“There has to be a reason you feel that way toward them,” He responds, hand coming to gently grip his in a comforting gesture. “It’s not just annoyance. I don’t care for any of them either, especially not Tommy, but there’s more to it for you, isn’t there?”

Dream thinks for a time, the silence between them comfortable, like it always is. “They’re going to fuck everything up, George,” He finally murmurs. “I just wanted everyone here to be happy, and now they’re going out of their way to divide all of us. When we first settled here, we wanted it to be a place where we could breathe, and they’re trying to ruin it by introducing government and rules and conflict. This isn’t what we wanted."

George hums in response, thinking to himself for a few long moments. “Just because they want to be separate doesn’t necessarily mean they want conflict. Is it really all that different from you and I and Sapnap keeping to ourselves?”

“Of course it is,” He replies hurriedly, wincing at the bite in his tone. “They put up _walls_ , George. That’s more than the three of us living a bit further away from the others. They don’t want to live with the rest of us, they want to live _against_ the rest of us. That’s not what I wanted. That’s not what you wanted.”

“See,” He responds, shifting slightly against Dream’s side so he can see his eyes. “I told you it’s more than just you being a shitty person. You have reasons, Dream. You don’t want to see this thing we built change.”

He shook his head into the dark, connecting the dots of distant suns above. “It isn’t theirs to claim. This land belongs to all of us, not just them.”

“You’re not wrong,” George mumbles it, exhaustion from a long day creeping into his voice. “I’d argue that you’re right actually, and I’ve fought with you against them since this started. But, if things don’t go the way we thought they would, perhaps just giving them what they want would stop it from spreading to the rest of the lands.”

Dream allows himself to be confused for a moment. “How does giving them what they want stop them from hurting the rest of us? Won’t it just be a case of ‘give an inch, take a mile’?”

“Maybe, but I’m not sure winning the war will get the result you want either. It might be a bit too late on that front.” There’s a tone in George’s voice that he can’t identify, something mixed with uncertainty, and he wishes he could never hear it again.

They stay there for what could be hours or what could be minutes. The abyss of space yawns above them, and seeing it makes Dream feel meaningless. It should scare him, he thinks, but he ends up comforted somehow. All of those stars, all of those distant worlds, and he happened to be on this one at the exact same moment as George, as Sapnap, as everyone on this earth. How could that make him feel small?

* * *

Tommy ends up being selfless, and it surprises Dream. Out of all of the outcomes that could have emerged from their clandestine meeting, this was certainly the last that he expected. He places the disks in Dream’s hands, vinyl cool and smooth against his calloused palms, and tells him this is what l’Manberg’s independence will cost.

He’s impressed, if he’s being honest. Tommy had always grated against his nerves precisely for the reason that he was so unbearably self-serving. He had allies and friends who followed his every word, but he paid them little mind most days. The disks had become an obsession for him, trumping even the people around him. To see him give them up suggested that maybe Tommy is someone he can live with, here, in relative peace. Perhaps he’s changing, growing up and realizing that people are more important. So, he accepts the boy’s proposition, and l’Manberg settles in permanently.

Looking back, he realizes he was foolish to believe that it would stop there. He may have transferred the disks to Dream, and done his so-called nation a public good, but he had immediately turned around and pursued them once more, as though their transaction wasn’t final. They’d clashed multiple times since l’Manberg had raised its flag for the first time as a new republic, Tommy’s blade incessantly coming after him and making Dream feel like the chagrined owner of an overenthusiastic puppy with teeth that were far too sharp. The frustration simmers inside of him until he explodes one night over dinner, abandoning his meal in favor for finally opening the release valve on the relentless pressure building inside of him.

“He won’t fucking _quit_!” He gestures wildly with his hands, trying to outlet what he’s feeling into physical movement. “We made a deal, and he won’t respect it. He goes on and on about l’Manberg, l’Manberg and how great of a nation it is, but all he cares about at the end of the day are those stupid disks. He’d sell out his own countrymen for them, it’s so easy to see. He’s so fucking selfish it’s almost sickening, and the only thing worse than a selfish man is one who won’t keep his word. I thought I was doing the right thing by signing that treaty, but apparently I did nothing but ruin things! So long as he’s—as he’s on this tirade, we won’t ever know peace here! Never! He’s ruining everything and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I have the one thing he wants, but even holding that over his head can’t make him fucking stop.”

“What if you just gave them back? Do you really think that wouldn’t solve a thing?” George supplies, less of a fan of conflict than Sapnap, who simply absorbs the flow of words from his seat.

He scoffs hard enough that it scratches the back of his throat. “God, no. That’s what I thought last time, when they were bargaining for l’Manberg’s independence, and look at where that got me. It just keeps getting worse! I’m of half a mind to just burn them, but I know that’d only make him angrier.”

George and Sapnap glance at each other from across the wooden expanse, plates and utensils forgotten. Sapnap is the one to speak first: “Well, whatever you decide, I’m sticking with you. Could give a fuck about that Tommy kid or his music disks. He’s introduced too many stakes here, if you ask me.”

Dream’s shoulders lose some of their tension at his words, breath leaving him in a harsh exhale. “Shit, I’m sorry. It’s just so frustrating, you know? We let him come here, and it’s like he’s doing everything he can just to spit in our faces.”

George hums in confirmation, but stays silent otherwise, picking at his dinner with deliberate slowness. Dream isn’t stupid enough to miss it, and the other knows it doesn’t go unnoticed, either.

He waits until later to bring it up, long after dishes are done and Sapnap has gone back home to care for his fish and finish repairs to his basement. “Hey, George?” He calls softly into the space between them, trying to get the other’s attention as he scanned through bookshelves on the other side of the room.

“Hey, Dream.” He answers, turning to face him with several books in his hand.

Dream gestures to the space beside him in front of the brick fireplace, and the other happily complies, settling into a chair next to him and watching the sparks dance before them. “What’s wrong?” He finally asks, never all that good at broaching subjects like these.

George turns to him, false smile hanging on his lips. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on now,” He gently retorts, voice light but lacking any indicators of humor. “You were quiet earlier. That’s not like you. Something’s up.”

He sighs, chewing on his words for a moment. “I still think you’re right, you know. About l’Manberg, and this ridiculous fighting. But I think it’s time that we just let it go. That you let it go.” He finishes, meeting Dream’s eye without reservation.

The words surprise him, and he takes a moment to process them. “So, let me get this straight,” He begins, voice layered with confusion. “You think that I’m right, but you think I should stop trying to make things right?”

“Well, you make it sound stupid when you say it like that.” George retorts, eyes flitting down. “I just mean that wasn’t the point of settling here to stand still? To rest? You can’t rest if you keep on fighting, Dream. How is this any different than us traipsing all over the world picking random battles? I thought that was the life we wanted to put a pause on.”

A part of Dream knows he’s right, of course. George is right a lot of the time, and he usually follows much of his advice to the letter, but he can’t this time. He won’t. “I’m not doing this because I want to, George, you know that. They’re a threat to the new life we’re trying to create. I wouldn’t need to fight if they weren’t so fucking stubborn.”

He sighs and lets his back fall into his chair. “But aren’t you being stubborn, too? Just give Tommy the disks and leave them alone and we can go on with our lives, just like we’d planned.”

The accusation flicks against a part of him that he would rather let lie, and the irritation does its best to claw its way out and coil around his tongue. “Is there something you want to say, George?” The words taste bitter in his mouth, and he can’t stop the venom in his voice from leaking out into the air between them.

George looks taken aback for a moment, shocked at the tone he’d never had directed at him, but hesitantly sets his face not long after. “Dream, I’m only trying to tell you these things because I care for you. I’m reminding you of the very reason you wanted to build this here with us. I know it’s easy to get caught up in the fighting, and that’s really the only thing we’re used to, so I can’t blame you, but I thought that we wanted to try standing still?” His voice is gentle, warm, earnest, and just like that the anger dies within Dream.

“I want to stand still,” He murmurs, not able to bear looking his companion in the eyes. “I do, I really do, but I just _can’t_ let this lie, George. It’s principle at this point. You’ve said it before, I’m in the right here, and I know that if we can stop this before it really starts, then we’ll actually be able to have a future where we can live in peace. They can’t just keep pushing.”

He isn’t sure what response he’s expecting from George, but him gently smiling and looking into Dream’s eyes wasn’t one of them. “Like I said, I still support you. I won’t stand in your way here, but I just want you to try and remember those rambling thoughts you had our first morning here. You wanted happiness. You wanted family, Dream. Just don’t forget that, okay? I don’t want you losing yourself.”

The idea of loss shoots him with a bolt of hesitancy, and the words George say make sense. He would be a fool to deny that they did, and he didn’t like to think of himself as one. “I just want to put an end to it. Once it’s over, then we can rest, I promise. You and me and Sapnap, we can rest. I just need to finish it first.”

George looks at him with something close to sadness but stopping just short: a quiet melancholy. He only nods and turns away, attention falling to the book in his lap, and Dream is once again left to his thoughts.

* * *

It’s been two months and they’ve been fighting a lot more recently, the three of them, but mostly Dream and George. They shoot barbs at each other far more than they used to, everything from petty disagreements over what color the beacon should be to serious issues relating to their newly reorganized next-door neighbor. Sapnap does his best to stay away from it, knowing how sharp their disagreements can be—oil and water—but he always finds himself yelling at someone at the end of the day, too. They aren’t happy like this, not really. Things are supposed to be getting better, but they’re only getting worse.

Their worlds finally reach a breaking point with the announcement of l’Manberg’s elections. Tommy, an ever-present thorn in Dream’s side, continued to launch his bid to remain in whatever strange position of power he thought he had, all the while continuing to pursue Dream as though he wasn’t trying to be a head of state. The disks lie dusty in Dream’s ender chest, unused and unhandled since the moment Tommy first bartered them for autonomy, and the more insistent the boy grows about getting them back, the more he begins to care about holding onto them. He’d never seen the value in two short pieces of music, but they somehow meant the world to Tommy, and he couldn’t help but wonder why.

Despite that, the more infuriated he grows, the more he tries to remember George’s words. Would it really be best if he just stayed out of it? He could level l’Manberg in the course of a dozen minutes, and the remarkable lack of armor within their territories reduced each citizen to two well-aimed draws of his bow. He’d thought about it—simply obliterating it from the common memory, teaching people a lesson, reminding them of what things were like before all of this had started—but an echo of _“You wanted happiness”_ always ricocheted in his head whenever he did. Doing that wouldn’t make him happy, surely not.

Putting those echoes at bay, however, became significantly easier when he stumbled across the campaign posters.

Dream had held onto that knowledge for the better part of the day. George knew he rarely passed through l’Manberg, so his familiarity with their political advertising wasn’t assumed to be strong. He had no reason to suspect Dream had found out, and he was tempted to let it stay that way, for a beat. Perhaps if he just let it lie, let George come to him on his own time and tell him what he had been doing, things would turn out alright. But, it was never that simple, not with them.

“George,” He finally says, walking back home together after a long evening spent repairing their armor. The night air is crisp and still, the stars above twinkling from a distant atmosphere. They wove between the spruce trees like they always did, path winding toward the general direction of the Community House. “What’ve you been up to lately?” It isn’t accusatory, just curious.

“I’ve spent the entire day with you, so I don’t think there’s anything I really need to fill you in on. You’ve been here for most of it.” George’s voice bears a hint of confusion. He still doesn’t know where this is going.

Dream sighs, sliding a hand down his face as he broaches his next sentence. “I saw the campaign signs, George. Vice President? Of l’Manberg? Seriously?”

The other is silent for several steps, eventually coming to a stop and waiting for Dream to do the same. They turn to face each other in the dim light of the moon. “It’s just something to pass the time. Listen, l’Manberg is here. They’re a major part of this land, whether either of us care for them or not. We can’t just pretend they aren’t there, Dream; might as well learn to live with them.”

He scoffs, incredulous. “Are you even a citizen? Can you even run? You literally helped burn that so-called nation to the ground before and, what, you think they’ve just forgotten that?”

“They’ve forgotten enough! They’ve learned to move on,” George’s voice is tense. “We need to accept that things are the way they are and move on, too. That isn’t unreasonable in the slightest. Quackity asked me, and I saw it an opportunity to live with it, so I took it.”

“God, I can’t believe you,” Dream starts, mouth twisting in contempt. “After everything that we’ve been through, that they’ve _put_ us through, you’re just happy to lay down and pretend none of it happened?”

“Oh, I’m just laying down, am I? God forbid I have my own opinions, ones that are different from yours or Sapnap’s. I’m tired, Dream! Aren’t you, at this point? I’m sick of all of this fighting and I don’t want to be a part of it anymore.” His voice gets louder with each phrase, the volume jarring to Dream. George never raised his voice in any serious capacity; it was always joking. This time, it clearly wasn’t. A fuse had been lit.

Desperately trying to restrain himself from saying something he knows he’ll regret, he does his best to steady his voice and calm his raging thoughts. “I’m not the one instigating the fighting, George! I haven’t started any of this. It was l’Manberg who said they wanted out, it’s Tommy who just keeps coming after me for the goddamn disks. You really think I want to be fighting? You don’t think I’m tired, too? I want to rest, but they’re the ones standing in the way of it. They just won’t let us, and they won’t so long as all of us live in the same place!”

“So what if you aren’t the ones starting things? You aren’t a child—end them before it gets out of hand. I’ve been trying to tell you that for months now, but you just won’t listen to me! It’s time to drop all of this, Dream. All of the antagonism, the war, the bullshit that pulls you away for days at a time. None of this is worth it.” He’s properly shouting now, his voice, normally so pleasant and soft, jaggedly vibrating between the boughs of the pines.

Dream can’t stem his anger anymore, and sound floods from his mouth, breathing ticking up in tandem. “None of this is worth it? Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve been here, since the start, George! You’ve been a part of every single step, and you’re just backing out now because it’s more convenient? What happened to me being right, to you promising to support me? Are you just going to forget—”

“I _lied_ , Dream!” He cried, and the words shocked Dream so much that he recoiled, taking a step back. “I’ve just been tired! I’ve been tired since you first accepted those disks, and I want out! I’m not doing this anymore.”

George tries to walk away, tightening the sheath on his hip, but he’s stopped by the other man’s words. “You lied?” His voice is low, dangerous, but pulsing with a heavy core of hurt, of fragility. Of betrayal. “How long, George? How long have you just been making things up for me?”

He sees where this conversation is going, and he doesn’t like it. “Oh, don’t turn it into that sort of discussion. That’s not the issue here.”

“What else,” Dream says, face clearly struggling to stay composed enough to tie down the fear beneath it. “Have you been lying about? What, am I- am I just some sort of stranger to you? An acquaintance? Someone who doesn’t matter?”

George doesn’t respond to the underlying question so clear there. “You’re someone who’s being far too stubborn for his own good.”

“Why would you—” Dream is stammering over his words, thoughts sprinting too fast for his mouth to catch up, and his voice fades. “How do I know anything you’ve said for- for months is sincere? How could you just treat me like that?”

“I was trying to protect you from yourself, but it’s clear I didn’t do a good enough job in that department.” He spits, trampling over the injury in Dream’s voice. He’d reached his limit.

There is silence again, the din of the night almost suffocating. Then, Dream is laughing. Not the wheezing, warm laugh George is so used to hearing, but a harsh bark that crackles into the space between them. “So, that’s how it is, huh? Just make shit up and that’ll somehow fix everything? Because, what, you don’t want to deal with me? Am I that much of a burden to you, George? I thought I was the one you wanted to stand still with.” He feels the harsh prick of tears behind his eyes and fights with every ounce of his emotional strength to keep them at bay. He’s not going to do this here, show _weakness_ to someone who thought it was alright to string him along.

When George meets his eyes, filled with a storm of agony, his face falls for a moment, as though he’s registering the repercussions of what’s he’s said. But, as quickly as it appeared, it vanishes and he’s speaking again. “You’re losing yourself, Dream. Just move on already."

He can’t find a response in him, terrified that when his mouth opens, either fury will pour out unbidden or the first word will crack and break into a thousand pieces. As though granting him a small mercy, George turns and stalks through the stalwart trees, leaving him in the forest, reeling and alone. His heart aches behind his ribs, stomach twisting into knots as his knees give way and he kneels on the soft podzol beneath him. The metal of his bracers digs into the thin flesh of his wrists, but he can hardly even feel it. George had been the one person who had always unequivocally been by his side, so much closer, _different_ from Sapnap. He had shared every single ounce of himself with him, and it turns out he had only received lies in response.

He’s never felt so shattered.

* * *

3\. falling just short

Dream flees that night, dragging an oaken boat, shoddily made and rarely used, into the sea and rowing until his arms are screaming in pain. He doesn’t stop until he’s kilometers upon kilometers away from that place he’d once called home, and it’s only when the sting of rain begins to pour from the heavens that he finally stops and takes refuge on an island, further out than he’s been in eons.

Hiding beneath natural eaves in the stone, he presses his back to the cool mountainside and something inside of him finally breaks as the deluge continues just beyond. The tears are hot when they spill down his cheeks, stinging as they drip into partially healed wounds, and he can’t stop them. As they fall, the only thing he can find it in himself to do is scream, voice meeting the rough, howling sheer of the ocean wind until it breaks and splinters and Dream can’t feel his throat anymore.

Once it’s over, and he’s so exhausted his bones hurt, he drags himself into a well in the cliffside and attempts to close his eyes, ending up just staring at the cave ceiling until sunlight filters in through the scar of an entrance. The new day greets him with as much warmth and beauty as it always has, and for once, it sickens him.

Dream exists on a sort of automatic hum after that. He decides to scrape out a world’s worth of rock until he finds the bottom of the earth, carving a cavern whose purpose he can’t decide at first. It’s lonely, far away on this island draped in savannah woodland, but he’s also far away from l’Manberg, and that’s all that matters to him. He is still involved, of course; it’s his work that leads to the eleven stacks of dynamite buried under the town center long before the battle will ever occur. Wilbur is just a bit unhinged by then, but Dream agrees with him. Whatever l’Manberg was supposed to have been, it no longer was. It had been corrupted, worsened, and it needed to disappear. While Wilbur’s reasoning might have differed from his, their end goal was the same, and so it made perfect sense to accept when the older man came to him, eyes glinting in faint torchlight with some sort of magnificent madness, asking to be his vassal.

Dream had originally planned to stop his engagement there. No matter what the outcome of the exiles’ attack on the Schlatt Administration, Wilbur would retreat once the fighting had ended and sink the final nail in the coffin of that godforsaken country. But things had changed the moment Schlatt pulled him aside as he passed through the forest near the place he used to call home. Unique knowledge was what was offered to him: something all-powerful, godlike. He felt so alone, then, George gone and Sapnap drifting ever-further and, god, he felt so fucking out of control. He needed something, anything, to stop him from feeling like the universe was going to spin him to dust with the next breath his shaking lungs seized.

So, he took the deal. The old tome he received had a worn cover made of animal skin he couldn’t identify, its binding still held fast in ancient mahogany thread. The margins were filled with notes in the Old Language. Schlatt admitted that he had never been able to read it, completely ignorant as to its true content, but the moment Dream opened it at their negotiation, he had to forcefully stop himself from displaying any reaction. The power to reverse death, and it was so _easy_. So blindingly easy, he couldn’t believe he’d never thought of it before. The book contained other things, remnants of an ancient magical system which only hardly survived today If things had been normal, he would have spent months trying to dissect every single word within those pages. Now, his eyes pass over them, more important businesses needing to be attended to.

Once the bargain has been struck, he goes to recruit. There aren’t many who support Schlatt—not even his own cabinet officials—but a combination of old guard soldiers in his administration and mercenaries happy to work for pay managed to create a formidable force. Knocking on Sapnap’s door had been the most difficult as he assembled the group.

He’d shifted awkwardly on his feet as he waited under the roofline of his home, desperately trying to ignore the pull of the Community House just out of view. If he looked to its brick façade, poorly but lovingly made, he had a feeling he would wither inside all over again. When the younger man opened the door, the shock took a moment to register on his face, but once it did, it was quickly overtaken by confusion.

“Dream,” He started. “It’s… been a while.”

“Could say that, yeah.” Dream tried to make his voice light, jovial, just like it had always been between them, but there was already too large of a divide standing in the way.

Sapnap’s piercing gaze dug into his core, and the longer he stared, the more Dream felt the desperate need to squirm out from under it. “You’re here about l’Manberg I’m guessing? I heard about your deal with Schlatt.”

He nodded, breaking the eye contact he couldn’t bear to hold. “I know you don’t want to take sides either, but I’d appreciate it if you fought with me again.”

“Wanna relive the old days?”

“Something like that.” They still haven’t moved from Sapnap’s doorstep. “You’re the best fighter I know. It’d make a big difference if you came.”

Sapnap finally stepped back, pulling open the door and gesturing for him to come inside. They walked together until he sat down at the kitchen table, Dream following suit. “Listen,” He started, tone more serious than he was used to from the younger man. “I’ll side with you this time, yeah? I don’t have any dogs in this fight, so it doesn’t really matter to me, but we’re friends and I at least owe you that.”

“Why are you making this sound like calculus, Sapnap?”

He sighed, hand going to grab the back of his neck like it always did when he was nervous. It was never a good sign. “I guess you could say I wanna retire. I don’t want to fight anymore. I just want to raise my dogs and explore the land nearby. I miss travelling, and I’m kind of sick of politics, if I’m being honest. You and George have obviously kept me here, but things aren’t great there, either.”

That twinge of worry lodged in between his lungs, which he could never manage to get rid of, twisted. “There’s something up with George?”

“Yeah, God,” He shakes his head as if to clear it. “I hardly see him these days. Haven’t you noticed he’s not even a part of the Cabinet anymore? Sleeps a lot, disappears when he’s awake. He’s hard to find. I haven’t had a solid conversation with him in weeks, probably.”

“Oh.” Is all he can muster.

Sapnap nods, face dressed in an expression of regret mingled with concern. “Have you spoken to him at all?”

It takes him multiple breaths before he can work his tongue around the knot in his throat. “No. We, well, we’re not talking. Not anymore.”

His friend’s eyes widened, taken aback. “Wait, seriously? You two haven’t been apart since we first picked him up, practically.”

“We had too many differences in opinion, and he made no secret of the fact he hated me for mine.”

There’s a slow inhale and exhale from across the table before Sapnap launches into more dialogue. “Let me guess: it’s about l’Manberg, right?” He pauses to wait for Dream’s nod. “He mentioned it to me, you know. He just wanted you to stop, man. It’s like you have the world’s worst case of tunnel vision, and it’s kind of hard to watch from the sidelines.”

Dream feels the coil of resentment tighten. “So, what, you agree with him now? You’re party to that treaty, too, Sapnap, in case you forgot. Why are you both acting like I’m the only person whose signature is on there? I’m not the only one they’re fucking over.”

“I agree, I’m getting fucked over, too,” He replies, defensive and immediately guarded. “But, I mean, what could we ever even get out of it at this point? A few acres of land? It just doesn’t seem worth it to me anymore. I can’t support you like I used to.”

“That’s it, then? You too?” A muscle in his cheek twitches. “You’re just happy to let me be made a fool, along with yourself?”

Sapnap sighs, looking up at him with tired eyes. “I never said I liked it, but it’s the choice we have to make, Dream. Honor isn’t worth all of this.”

Dream clenches his fist until his short nails dig deep crescents into his palms. He tries relaxing them, but his grip won’t abate. “Alright, I get it,” He finally says with a laugh, although it would be more apt to just call it a release of breath. “I get it, I do. You don’t want me to drag you down.”

“That’s not—”

“No, no, it’s pretty clear. Fuck that pact we made, right? Sticking with each other no matter what? It’s fine. Guess it was void anyway when George left.” Acid drips from his teeth and he stands to leave. “I’ll see you in a couple days, then, if it isn’t too damaging to your public image.”

Sapnap gapes at him for a moment as he turns toward the door, but shouts after him. “Dream! Dream, come on!”

He whips around, looking down at the shorter man with his face flushed from anger. “What, are you telling me that isn’t it? We all sat on that beach and said we’d always stand up for each other, but I seem to be the only one with any interest in doing that! Who needs to keep their fucking promises, anyway, right? It’s all just transient apparently. I’ve stood by your side, even when half of l’Manberg was going after you, but I’m apparently not worth the same.”

“I’m not- I’m not breaking my promise!” Sapnap shouts back, voice strong but Dream can spot the tremor underneath it from a mile away.

“Really? Because my honor apparently ‘isn’t worth all of this.’” Sapnap starts to interrupt, but he cuts him off. “Your words, not mine, Sap. I was always happy to keep my promise, and I’ve done my best to do that unless I couldn’t help it. One battle, that’s the only time I was obligated to go against you, and even then, I made Tommy promise to not hurt Mars. I managed to _end_ that fight, which you started because of your stupid decisions, without getting you killed, like Tommy wanted. Every other time, I’ve always stood by your side because that was what we were supposed to do for each other! Why can’t you just do the same?”

Partially hidden underneath dark fringe, he can see the torrent of emotions on Sapnap’s face. “I’ve always been on your side, Dream.”

“Yeah? Then why are you backing out? Doesn’t seem like something an ally would do.”

“An ally. That’s all I am to you now?”

“Might as well be.”

The tension is the room is so thick in the air that Dream could unsheathe his sword and cut through it in a single movement. It presses on his skull until it feels ready to shatter.

“Well, that’s sad, Dream.” He tries, but the other refuses to have it.

“I don’t need your pity, Sapnap,” He spits, refusing to even turn toward the other man. “It’s clear how little you care about me. You made your choice, and you’ve stuck by it. Don’t try and give me platitudes, because I have nothing more to say to you.” Dream turns on his heel and flings open the front door, walking straight past the now-empty Community House that he used to call home before vanishing into the heat of the Nether.

It’s after this that his collection starts.

* * *

Following the initial destruction of l’Manberg, the months pass in a lonely blur. Every act he commits is deliberate. He returns only sporadically: to save Technoblade from his own trial-less execution, to transfer supplies from the old secret base he’d dug into the ground the week they’d first received new arrivals, to help Sam with the prison construction, to deal with Tommy trying to destroy every single thing he’d worked at since the beginning. Techno is the only person he speaks to without reservation now, although they’re far from friends. It’s precisely because of that fact that he feels able to let down his guard a degree around him; there is no pretense of friendship or a bond. They work together because it makes sense, not because either likes the other. They’re associates, business partners. If there’s nothing there other than professional detachment, Dream can’t get hurt. No one can plunge a knife through his back if he never turns around to begin with.

Each time he visits the lands that were once his, he has to make the long journey back to this strange hollowed-out mountain that he calls a residence. It’s not a home. Home died the moment George looked at him with vitriol in his eyes that night beneath the pines, not even the glory of the stars on his fair cheeks enough to redeem the betrayal that had lodged deep inside of Dream’s chest like a silver dagger between his ribs. It had been worse than being stabbed in the back because he had trusted George with everything that he was; he’d held out the fragile expanse of his neck, his wrists, every part of him that could be destroyed, and trusted George to run the pads of his fingers over each place with the same tenderness Dream shared with him. Instead, he’d cruelly twisted and snapped whatever he could reach, and there was no way for him to recover from a pain that visceral, that mangling. He hadn’t had a home since that night, and he doubted he could ever have one again.

He’d thought about leaving, of course he had. That was what they’d promised at the beginning of it all: if things took a turn for the worse, they would leave. Life would go back to the way it was before they settled at that god-forsaken fucking lake, and it would be the three of them again, like it always had been. But every time he thought about simply running to the hills, exploring the world until he dropped off the edge of it, that one part of him that he couldn’t protect, no matter how hard he tried, cried and screamed for him to stay. It whispered bittersweet _what if’s_ to him, promising a future where George loved him again, where Sapnap stood by his side instead of turning against him and everything they had stood for. It tethered him to this land, no matter how far he tried to run. He couldn’t leave because he’d made the mistake of forming the ultimate attachment: he’d made the mistake of creating community.

He hated this place, he decided after he finally finished carving out the entirety of the vault. This place had ruined him, had ruined everything. If they’d never stopped moving, if they’d never _stood still_ , then none of this would have happened. The memories seemed to slip through his fingers like the fine sand of an hourglass, and no matter how he tried to cup it in his hands, it always fell through.

* * *

“How do you not _hurt_?” Tommy is shouting at him, voice raw from exertion, despite the fact that the blade of an axe glints just above the delicate flesh of his throat. “Now that you’ve lost all your attachments, that you’ve lost everything?”

Dream sets his jaw and feels scarred skin stretch from the action, not caring for the challenge. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t give Tommy the satisfaction. “I need control.” He says it simply, and it’s true.

He’s lost everything. Everyone he’d ever cared about had left, and they’d taken the pieces of Dream that were capable of hurting with them. He thought back to that night on the lakeshore, so many moons ago, when he and George and Sapnap would have destroyed the world ten times over for each other without hesitation. They didn’t want him anymore, their oaths long forgotten.

If he didn’t have control, what did he have?

He would have nothing.

He had nothing, and it was only a matter of time until he was nothing, too.

**Author's Note:**

> God I fucking love smp!dream. (Just to be clear, I obviously do not endorse any of the manipulative actions his character has done in the storyline. It’s all fictional, but I just think he’s cool and he has absolutely no lore, so I need to do something (I’m a fan of well-executed villains, what can I say).)
> 
> Anyway, this is actually the very first thing I’ve ever written or published for mcyt, so please be kind lol
> 
> I’m on twitter (fayesaysstuff) and tumblr (onebillionstarsff) if you want to see what other things I publish, or me just going off about meta, so come stop by some time!


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